Veni Vidi Vici
by Sarah-Q
Summary: In a world without Sam and Dean Winchester, God's grand plan is crumbling, and Michael has to pick up the pieces.
1. Chapter 1

The War was not going well.

New York City was but one of many examples of this fact. Michael stood atop its highest building surveying the scene before him. The battle had mostly ended, leaving only a few straggling demons to flee before what was left of Heaven's army. Reapers swarmed the streets, collecting the souls of the dead and dying.

They had driven Hell's army back, forcing them to retreat. But Lucifer had gotten what he'd wanted. Few humans would survive this. Those who did would take refuge in yet another city. Until Lucifer's Army came for that one as well.

It was all he could do to keep Heaven together. They were losing Angels far too quickly, and unlike Hell, they couldn't replenish their troops. Moral was falling fast, and there were some Angels, most notable one of the Garrison leaders, an Angel called Castiel, was questioning his leadership and the plan that they were following.

Not that it was much of a plan anymore, Michael thought bitterly. Much of his Fathers grand plan had dissolved the moment that Mary Winchester had allowed John to die and prevented his True Vessel from being born. Absently he rubbed one of the lesions on his face, the result of his grace breaking through his current vessel. It was his fifth one since Lucifer had been freed and it would not last much longer.

As if sensing his thoughts, Raphael appeared next to him with several buckets of dark red liquid. The Healer offered him a cup and Michael began to drink the demon blood. Michael detested using it, but it was one of the only ways to prolong a vessels durability.

"He's not going to be able to hold you for long" Raphael warned "It might be time to start looking for a new one"

"He'll hold," Michael said stubbornly. He had too. There were precious few humans who let an angel in anymore. Lucifer himself had not yet found a suitable vessel. Even the most devout would now run in fear at the sight of an angel. And Michael could not blame them

Raphael shook his head letting out a frustrated sigh but said nothing more. The two of them gazed out at the broken city, at the piles of bodies, Human, Demon and Angel alike.

"Well," Raphael finally said, "If you don't do something soon, there's not going to be anything left."

Michael caught his brother's eye and knew that he was no longer talking about his vessel. Michael nodded and Raphael disappeared, presumably to help heal who he could.

Michael cast his eyes up toward the overcast sky. ' _Father'_ He prayed ' _Help me. What do I do?'_

There, of course, was no answer. There was never an answer. Michael had long since abandoned the hope that his father would return, but prayer was a habit he was reluctant to break.

He left the building, angry and hopeless. He passed multiple reapers, each of them with several brilliant souls.

Wait

Souls…

Michael immediately recoiled from that idea. It was blasphemous, Humans were his Father's pride and joy. They were the reason he was fighting his brother at all. To protect them.

His Father would never have even entertained this idea.

But Father wasn't here, Michael thought resentfully. He had left Michael in charge of all of Heaven, with no instructions, save a glorious plan that had fallen apart almost immediately.

"Zachariah" He called. The angel appeared beside him. "How many humans would you say died here"

"Around 8 million, sir" Zachariah replied. Michael nodded.

"I need you to bring them to me"

"Sir?"

"I need you to bring me the souls," Michael said. "Everyone who died here"

"What of the reaper's?" Zachariah asked "They're not going to just give them up"  
Michael set his jaw. "Fight them. Kill them if you must. But bring me those souls"

Hours later Michael was standing with an orb of intense light in front of him. He could hear the whispers coming from it, the thoughts of 8 million people. He reached out a hand to it but hesitated.

' _Father, forgive me'_ He prayed. And consumed them.


	2. Chapter 2

Faith was a powerful thing.

Michael knew better than most, he had seen what its influence had done over millennia. It could transform even the most cowardly of men into zealots, fan the flames of war, and shake the very foundations of a nation. Michael knew firsthand there was no greater feeling, than fighting for something that you _knew_ to be right, someone you had complete confidence and trust in.

He longed for those days. Faith was now a long distant dream of a better age. It had fled, not only from Humanity, but from the Hosts of Heaven, and even, Michael was ashamed to admit, from himself.

He once had unshakable faith in his Father, even to the point where he cast his own brother, the one he had raised and had loved more than anything else. He had been prepared to fight Lucifer, because he believed in his father and that there was a reason for it. A purpose.

The last time he had fought Lucifer, his brother had begged him to join him, had pleaded, had told Michael that he didn't want to fight him. And Michael had said no, because Lucifer was wrong he had betrayed Heaven and He had betrayed his Father, and God couldn't be wrong. Michael had faith in his father

That faith had gone.

And here he still stood, fighting a losing battle that he was slowly failing to find a point in.

 _'_ _Father, please'_ He pleaded _'At least tell me why'_

Silence

The souls he had absorbed had given him a little reprieve. The added power had saved lives, and it had felt so damn _good_ to finally win, to see the fear in the demon's eyes as he ripped their army apart.

That victory had been short-lived. Michael's vessel had been struggling to contain Michael alone. The added weight of 8 million souls would soon be too much for him. Michael was relucted to give up the extra strength; it had given him a measure of control, something that was in short supply these days.

The strains of war had split Heaven's army. A group of Angels, led by Castiel had chosen Humanity over Heaven. Michael was now waging a war against two enemy's, Lucifer army, whose numbers grew daily, and an army comprised of humans who still had will enough left to fight back, Castiel's rebel group of angels and most surprising, an assortment of Pagan's led by Loki.

Lucifer still hadn't found a vessel, and Michael found he was glad. Bad as the war was going he was content to wait as long as he had to, before fighting his brother. He knew that Lucifer would ask him to join him again, and he feared that he no longer had the faith to refuse him.


	3. Chapter 3

Thunder boomed in the sky, momentary blocking out the clash of weapons and the screams and whimpers of the dying. Lighting flashed and the Angels fell with the rain.

Michael saw the whole battle in fragments, short bursts of action, allowing millennia old instincts guide his lance.

 _Zachariah stabbing a demon, its empty vessel collapsing to the ground._

 _Uriel screams as he is overcome by a hoard of demons; It is the last sound he makes._

 _A group of humans, a family, cowers in an ally, the children sob, the mother weeps and silent tears run down the Fathers face as he prays for the nightmare to end._

 _His own lance pierces the enemy and it bursts into smoke, but another always takes its place._

 _And in the sky, angels slay angels, a horrific sight reminiscent of Heaven's first war, and just like that time, Michael cannot save everyone._

Amid all the noise and chaos across the city, a gunshot rang out, and Michael would not have noticed such an insignificant sound, had it not been for the pain in his leg that brought his attention solely to himself.

Michael had been shot.

It should not have hurt, but as Michael examined the bullet, he found that it was made out of holy metal. One of his fallen sibling's blades had been desecrated. Anger mounting, Michael turned to find the perpetrators. It was a small group of humans firing on everyone, demons, and angels.

"Fools" Michael growled, striding toward them. "We are protecting you-" He was cut off as he was fired at again.

And Michael snapped.

All of his anger- at Lucifer, at Castiel and everyone who followed him, at his Father, at himself, and at these humans who had the audacity to shoot at _him,_ when he was fighting this war, and sacrificing his own family for them- It exploded from him in a roar, crushing everything in its wake. It felt good, and Michael laughed.

Then everything went dark.

Michael awoke to find himself covered in his vessel's blood. The body was not doing well, it was covered in lesions were the Archangel was poking through. Michael himself was doing badly. He felt weak and barely conscious. He stood and just barely caught a figure on the edge of his vision.

Holy fire sprang to life around him, forming a perfect circle. Anger surged through Michael. "How dare-"

"Yes, yes. How dare I capture Regent of Heaven himself, blah blah blah." The speaker stepped into the light of the flames reveling a red-eyed Demon. It gave Michael a thin smile. "Name's Crowley. King of the Crossroads"

Michael stepped forward, the combined force of the souls and his grace preparing to dampen to holy flames, but the power surge within caused the cuts in his vessels skin to widen

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you" Crowley cautioned "Your vessels looking worse for wear as it is, especially after that stunt you just pulled. Any more strain might destroy it…"

"It wouldn't be the only thing destroyed" Michael spat

"No doubt" Crowley agreed "Such an explosion would level a quarter of the city at least, killing everyone in its radius, demons, angels, and humans alike, and me. But of course, you can _always_ just get another vessel…except" The demon winced "You really can't, can you? With all your destructions humans are starting to learn that Angels are not the fluffy winged, harp playing do-gooders that they believed you to be."

And _even_ you managed to convince one of them to say yes _"_ Crowley continued "You'd still be stuck in a subpar vessel, never able to fully unleash your true power."

"Do you have a point?" Michael asked coldly.

The demon smiled. "What if I told you I had a way to strengthen your vessel. Strengthen it so that it not only holds you but also all those souls you've been consuming."

Cold fury flashed in Michaels' eyes. "I don't make deals with demons"

"Up until recently, you'd never even have considered eating human souls." Crowley countered.

There was a brief silence. Michael was loath to admit it, but the demon was right.

"Continue," Michael said stiffly

"There's a certain powerful book that came into my possession recently. A book containing spells that can strengthen a vessel."

Michael folded his arms. "Are you so eager to betray your King? The one you call the _father"_ Michael's distaste at the name was palpable.

Crowley smiled bitterly "Let's just say I'm not as confident as some of my colleagues of our survival when the war ends."

Michael laughed "Lucifer and I seldom agree, but I believe we are of a similar mind regarding your kind. What makes you think I will make a deal with you?"

"Mutual need," Crowley said simply "You _need_ to stabilize your vessel, preferably before Lucifer does, and I _need_ guaranteed protection."

There was another silence as Michael considered. Every molecule of his being rebelled at the thought of striking a deal, it was against his very nature, but if he could solve the vessel problem once and for all…

He remembered the battle, his brothers and sisters dying, sometimes by each other's own hand, and he remembered the human family, the father's head bent in prayer.

A desperate prayer to save his family.

Besides he could always kill the demon when its usefulness expired. He eyed Crowley. "I…accept," He said through gritted teeth.

"Wonderful," Crowley smirked. He pulled a roll of Parchment seemingly out of thin air. "Let's talk businesses"

Michael felt a surge of guilt and foreboding. How many more of his morals would he have to sacrifice to follow his father's orders? He almost sent a plea for forgiveness towards his father but stopped as an unexpected wave of anger came over him.

He had done nothing to warrant needing forgiveness from a father who had abandoned him millennia ago.


	4. Chapter 4

His Brother was a terrible sight to behold when angry. The normally stoic Healer exuded a cold fury as he swept into the room. Everyone, except Michael, drew back a little not wanting to be in the way of a wrathful Archangel. The Prophet flinched violently, but that came as no surprise to Michael.

The Prophet of the Lord, a failed novelist called Chuck Shurley, was a cowardly man with a nervous disposition. He had so far proven to be useless, not having received any new revelations since John Winchester had died. Still, Michael protected him as there was more to a Prophet than receiving Gods word.

Michael dismissed the assembled angels. Chuck made a move to leave but Michael waved him to sit down. This wasn't going to take long. Michael knew, of course, why Raphael was here. The deal.

Which had gone surprisingly well. Crowley indeed had in his own words acquired (Though Michael knew stolen was probably more accurate) not only the infamous Book of the Damned but also a Witch by the name of Rowena MacLeod. Controlled by the demon via a Witchcatcher, she was able to cast the spell that stabilized Michaels' vessel.

Rumors had spread through Heaven's host like wildfire, though no one dared to openly question the Regent. Yet.

"Brother, what have you done," Raphael asked furiously.

"What I had to," Michael replied darkly

"We don't make deals with demons, it is beneath us."

"I am saving Heaven Raphael. I'm saving our Family and Humanity."

Raphael made an incredulous noise. " _Saving_? Is that what you call it. Ever since you made that deal, we have caused far more destruction, and you take more souls with every battle. You have forgotten the purpose of this war. This is not what our father would've wanted."

Michael laughed bitterly "And you know this how, Brother? Has our father been answering _your_ prayers when all the rest of us get silence?" Raphael's eyes flashed and open his mouth to speak, but Michael cut him off, his voice crescendoing to a roar "Or do you think you knew our father better than me, that this chaos was all part of his _glorious_ plan. He lunged forward and grabbed Chuck by the arm, ignoring the man's cry. "What do you think Prophet, is Raphael right? You seem to be the last person my father has spoken to so tell me, am I wrong to save my family and you primitive apes? Go on, shed a little light on what our father thinks"

"I-I don't-I can't-I-" Chuck was shaking in terror, and Michael let him go in disgust. The prophet fell to the ground.

"Our father has abandoned us Raphael and whatever plan he had, has crumbled to dust."

"So you desecrate human souls, make deals with demons and turn your back on our father. Forgive me if I mistake you for my other older brother." Anger roared inside Michael, and Raphael slammed into the wall opposite.

"Know your place Brother," Michael said, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. "I am _nothing_ like Lucifer. It is our Father who forsook us, not the other way around." He took a breath in. "I do not tolerate dissent. Do not question me again." The brief flapping of wing told Michael that Raphael had left. He looked around to find Chuck staring at him.

The prophet was no longer shaking and he had gone back to his desk. His eyes had lost their previous terror and Chuck now just looked sad.

Michael found, for some inexplicable reason that he couldn't hold the prophet's gaze. He looked down and after a long moment left the building.


	5. Chapter Five

The world had gone silent.

Michael stood in what a year ago had been a happy suburb bustling with life. Imprints of the former residence still haunted the area, Michael could hear the echoes of children's laughter as his gaze swept over broken toys littering various lawns, could hear a women's humming as she worked, coming from a withered garden with a spade still left in its soil. He could hear the purr of an engine from a car long since dead, and the faint strains of music from a party that had ended long ago.

Now all the houses stood, broken and empty, the gardens and lawns withered, the playground abandoned. The world had gone silent and cold and dead. There was no birdsong, no wind whistling, even the faint sound of vegetation growing had ceased.

If Michael closed his eyes, he could almost imagine everything as it was before. Before humanity, before earth and Heaven and Hell. Back when there was just…Nothing. Well, not quite nothing. There had been his father and him. And then his little brother. Lucifer.

Michael could remember the awe of that moment. When he first saw his brother. Awe and excitement and joy. Lucifer was beautiful and shone so bright that he lit up the cold empty darkness and his father called him Morningstar.

And Michael loved him. And if his Father favored Lucifer more than him, well Michael didn't care because Lucifer was his favorite too.

Raphael came soon after, the calm gentle healer, who loved all forms of life. Michael grieved for that person, for that gentle demeanor had over centuries of war and death, had hardened into a stoic soldier.

And Gabriel. Gabriel, that whirlwind of laughter and chaos, who loved the messiness of creation, and who cared too deeply to pick between brothers. Michael missed his brother's presence at his side, his easy smile, and reassurance that everything would be alright.

Michael missed the unity between them. He remembered their first victory together, they had locked the Darkness away. Lucifer bore her Mark, filled with pride that their father had put his trust in him. They had all been drunk on sheer victory and rejoiced in the explosion of life now that Amara was no longer a threat.

It was a golden age. Lucifer had perhaps seemed a little darker, his games a little more destructive, but it was such a small, slow change, and there was so much more to do. Heaven and earth were both teeming with new life.

It wasn't Lucifer fault, not really. Michael could see that now, it was the marks influence, and perhaps if they had noticed sooner they could've saved him. It still didn't stop Michael from being angry.

In that first civil war, Michael had lost Lucifer his first companion and brother, and the betrayal in his brother's eyes had hurt his whole being. But it had to be done because Michael hadn't just lost Lucifer.

He had lost countless siblings in the war. He had killed angels that he had helped raise and felt their grace die. Gabriel had vanished, and soon after the war, their Father had gone as well, leaving Michael and Raphael to try to repair their home. Michael had become an aloof ruler. He had seen what free will had done to his home so Heaven law became strict, the punishments severe, and there was a procedure put in place to make sure no one followed Lucifer path.

He steeled himself, distanced himself from Lucifer as Michael had remembered him, knowing that he would one day have to kill him. He had become a cold hard General, closing himself off from everyone, except Raphael. He had felt ready, his anger at times making him almost eager for the fight.

And now that the time had finally come, he found himself wandering in an insignificant suburb in an insignificant town, putting off destiny.

He wasn't ready. He would never be ready, Michael finally admitted to himself, and with that realization, he once again felt the heavy weight of duty press down on him. There was no more point stealing any more time when no time in the world would prepare him.

Michael remembered his fallen siblings from this war and the last war. He remembered the hollowness in his Fathers eyes after Lucifer's fall and his more and more frequent absences until one day he never came back. He remembered Gabriel pleas for peace and his horror when the war was declared and remembered his own grief when his little brother fled. He remembered the people that had lived in this very neighborhood, lives that had been cut short.

Michael opened his eyes, a sense of purpose settling in him. He turned west and headed toward Detroit.


	6. Chapter Six

The sky was dark and cold. A storm was brewing on the horizon, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Hello Lucifer" His brother turned, and Michael came face to face with Lucifer for the first time since he had cast him down to hell.

"Hello, Michael." Lucifer smiled at him, a weary expression that did not carry any real happiness. "You're looking…well"

And Michael did look far better than Lucifer, whose grace was bursting through his insufficient vessel, coving the skin in cuts and lesions. He hardly looked battle ready, as opposed to Michael whose vessel was strengthened by spells that kept his grace and the multitude of souls contained.

They began to circle each other, both hesitant to begin the long-awaited fight. "It's good to see you" Michael finally said

Lucifer nodded. "You too" Another brief pause "Can you believe it's finally here."

Michael sighed "Not really" He admitted.

"Are you ready?"

The honest answer was no, he was not ready to kill his favorite little brother and he suspected that Lucifer wasn't really ready for this fight either. "As I'll ever be"

More circling and silence and then: "You know, a part of me wishes we didn't have to do this"

"Me neither" Michael admitted

"Than why are we?" Lucifer stepped forward, hope in his eyes. "Michael-"

"No," Michael said firmly. Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but Michael cut him off again. "No Lucifer, this fight…. this will happen."

Lucifer's expression hardened. "So" He sneered. "Still following our father's orders like a good little soldier. Never mind that he abandoned you-"

"He abandoned _everyone_ " Michael growled

"-and his 'perfect plan' has crumbled to pieces, leaving you to desecrate his most prized creation, in a pitiful attempt to overpower me."

Michael's eyes flashed. "How dare-"

"How _do_ you think Father feels about your soul consumption, Brother. Or your Demon deal. You blamed me for dividing Heaven but you've managed to drive away half of the host that still remains. Do you think he's proud of you?"

Michael let out a roar of fury and lunged forward grabbing Lucifer by his vessels throat and plunged his lance into his gut. Lucifer let out a cry of pain, his face contorted with shock and pain.

"You listen to me, Brother," Michael said harshly. "This is not for our Father. I forsook him and his grand plan long ago, perhaps the minute I chose to 'desecrate his most prized creation'"

"Then why" Lucifer whispered as his Vessel and Grace decayed. "We could've been family again, Michael"

"No," Michael said, his anger ebbing away, replaced by grief. "No Lucifer, we couldn't. You betrayed us and our father, you tore our family apart. I lost you to darkness and Gabriel left, and I had to kill _so_ _many_ of our siblings and…" Michael voice caught "and you drove our father away."

The admission so often thought but never spoken aloud till now, hung in the air.

"That was not my fault." Lucifer whispered desperately "That wasn't…I wouldn't-Michael I loved him"

"You broke our Father's heart and he left." Michael said bitterly "He abandoned me and Raphael and all of Heaven and left me with nothing but a plan that failed before it started."

Lucifer collapsed to the ground, as his light dimmed. Michael knelt beside him.

"I believed for so long." Michael whispered "That this was a test. A way for me and Heaven to prove our loyalty. I had faith that our father would come home once you were gone, but he isn't. I've made my peace with that. He's not coming back, but that means that I am all that Heaven and Earth have left, and I will not allow rebellion" Lucifer shuddered, grace almost gone. "I will reunite Heaven" Michael whispered forcefully "No matter what it takes, I will bring our family back together. I will be a better God then our father was."

The Morningstar's light went out, and for a moment the universe itself seemed to stop. Rain began to fall. Michael shut his eyes and for the first time since his father had left, he wept.

 **End of Act One**


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